


A Beautiful Lie

by sasha_b



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 01, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's been lying to Foggy for years.  How much longer can he do it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be said, I hate summaries and titles. 
> 
> I rewatched episode ten (Nelson v. Murdock) and was struck again with how much it kills Matt to have lied for so long to Foggy about who and what he is, but _because_ of who he is, he'll still lie. 
> 
> I played around with the timeline and changed the story some here for my writing purposes. SPOILERS for up through Season One, Episode Ten.

"Tripping and falling while taking out the trash." Foggy laughs. "You should get someone to do that for you!"

Matt smiles perfunctory, while his stomach rolls with thick, painful guilt. "I just need to be more careful." His glasses hide the worst of the shiner, and his split lip seems to be not so painful. He licks at it, and he can taste the dried blood.

He clinks glasses with Foggy and drinks, celebrating their new start, keeping their souls intact, doing what's right, living life in support of the law. Nelson and Murdock, avocados (he smiles again) at law. He'll go in the morning and have the sign officially made, get it started, so Foggy doesn't get any ideas on changing his mind. Not that he would; Foggy is one of the most stand up and honest people he's ever met. And Foggy is loyal and kind and funny and Matt does not deserve his friendship.

The morning comes early and he rolls out of bed, springing carefully over the books near his bed, his cane leaning against the doorjamb, his home completely mapped to him internally and by memory - he'd told Foggy he'd tripped and fallen while taking out the trash. He stops in the kitchen, bare feet cold on the floor, hand poised over the coffee pot that's already started brewing.

The fire of the world he lives in fills him and tells him where he is and what's happening and that a few neighbors are burning their toast three flights up and that the donut shop on the corner is using a different brand of milk and that the trash he supposedly tripped over a few days ago while carrying it out has a handful of seriously rotting chicken fingers that the rats seem to be taking way too much interest in.

He is worthless. 

He's been lying to his best friend for years, and he can barely focus on Foggy lately while he talks about their practice and fighting the good fight. Not that Matt doesn't want to do that - it's the only thing he wants to do - but for the past few months, years, really, he's been shoving his respect for the law to the side. He's been hiding his face and taking justice into his own hands and he hears the hairline crack form in the coffee mug he's been holding, empty, just before the cup shatters and drops shards of porcelain all over his feet and floor.

He rolls his lips inward and steps over the broken pieces, delicate, like a dancer performing a sequence he hates but has done so many times it's impossible to get it wrong.

*

He wears a nice suit when he goes to pick up the sign, hiding his bruised ribs, his stitched side, his lacerated skin and the welt that rises right above his belt buckle with the clothing, his glasses and cane making the clerk sigh with pity (he assumes), especially when she notices his damaged cheekbone and matching stitches across his nose and temple.

He smiles tightly and takes the sign and leaves the shop as quickly as he can. The trip to the office is fast - he knows Hell's Kitchen as well as he does his loft - and as luck would have it, Foggy and Karen are there, heads together, conferring secretly and jumping apart as he opens the door, their "Matt!' making him want to roll his eyes, even though the effect wouldn't work for him. He can smell helium and hear the rustling of nylon and "I brought balloons!" comes from Karen, brightly, and he smiles again, the expression feeling rough and fake and he holds the wall plaque out like a benediction he's been wanting to give to Foggy for as long as he's known and lied to him.

Who is Matt Murdock? 

"This is awesome, buddy!" Foggy's arm around his shoulders feels warm and protective, the role Matt is playing himself even though the other man doesn't know it. He licks the split in his lip and Foggy is showing Karen the "Nelson and Murdock" sign and Foggy turns to him and Matt wants to dissolve into the floor and die. 

"Told you we'd make it! Avocados at law, brother!" Foggy crows, slapping Matt on the shoulder after letting go of him. Matt winces, the stitches across his back pulling, and Foggy is all concern and contriteness, telling him _what did I say about getting someone to help you?_

"Speaking of," Karen says - Matt wants to cry with relief as Foggy's attention is drawn from him - "we need to go over this stuff I just got from Ben, with the ... " she talks as Matt lets the _focus_ drift, the beating Fisk had admittedly given him making his everything ache. He swallows and forces himself to take the drink Foggy hands him while the other man is arguing with Karen about the safety of a planned meeting she's set up.

Who is Matt Murdock?

_Who am I?_ He feels the burning world surround him and his rage builds and that's all he can feel or truly _see_. 

Foggy says his name through the thickened _focus_ and he steps toward them, _focus_ , and catches his hip on the corner of the desk and stumbles a bit.

"Jeez, Matt. Am I going to have to cover you in bubble wrap? Come on, buddy. I'll help you." Matt waves Foggy's help off, but the other man takes his arm, his hand warm on Matt's bicep, and Matt (and the Masked Man, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen) lets him, the world on fire burning out everything except for Foggy's face and the smile there and the trust and love and Matt can't do anything but follow him, his aches and the hate for what Fisk and the others are doing to his city flaring to life at the sight of the two people he's closest to believing he's something he's not.

Something he has to be, though. 

"I'll get Mrs. Ruso to help me with the trash next time."

He smiles, and Foggy laughs, and Matt feels things shatter, _sorrow_ and guilt and _I've been lying to you for years, my friend_ battering at his teeth, ready to spill out.

He leans over the desk with the other two and pretends that he's just part of Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law, but knows that he's anything but that.

Everything but that.


End file.
